The Language of Life
by NothingNooneZero
Summary: She's got a way with words. Begins in Season 1: The Blind Banker and will deviate from the BBC Series after Season 2: A Scandal in Belgravia.
1. Chapter 1

The Language of Life: A Sherlock Fanfiction

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own the BBC's 'Sherlock'. If I did, I honestly would have ensured a Holmes/Watson relationship was properly established. I'm not sure about you, but the vehement denial of his orientation does make me awfully suspicious of our dear Doctor Watson.

* * *

"Who are you?" John asked, eyeing the woman in front of him warily. He had half a mind to fish out his gun at this point in time but decided to give her a chance. She didn't look all that threatening; she was shorter than he was.

"I apologise for alarming you. I am Carter. Sherlock Holmes requested my presence."

"Oh, oh right. You're the code-breaker?" He immediately flushed at the tone of voice he had used. "Sorry, I didn't mean it like that. It's just, well, I never really would have thought you were in that line of business."

"In all technicality I'm but a humble linguist but encryption is a language of sorts. You needn't apologise for anything. You are Doctor Watson, yes?"

"I am. Nice to meet you." They shook hands. "Please, call me John. Would you like a cuppa?"

"No thank you. I have to apologise again for inviting myself in. You may want to invest in some better locks by the way."

"No problem at all. You didn't look in the fridge did you?"

"He's still storing body parts with food?"

"Yes, it's a bloody nightmare sometimes." The chuckle that had made its way into the open dissolved rather quickly as what the woman had said finally sunk in. "Wait, what do you mean still?"

"I'm assuming I've never been mentioned before then. I'm an old acquaintance of Sherlock's; it's why he called me in. He knows how I work, I know how he works and therefore he won't have any reason to throw a tantrum or be overly irritating." Carter smiled warmly at John before she sat down on the sofa. "How has he been?"

"Uh, good at times."

"Never a dull moment is there? How are you? I was told that you were an army medic. How are you readjusting to civilian life?"

John was perplexed at the sudden direction of questioning. His eyes narrowed for but a moment before he realised that Carter looked completely sincere in her apparent concern for his welfare.

"I'm adjusting well. I've been assisting Sherlock on various cases actually."

"That's wonderful." She smiled so warmly, so invitingly that John honestly forgot that he had only been speaking to her for a matter of ten minutes or so.

The two talked for many hours, learning about each other, their work, their lives, Carter's mysterious connection to Sherlock; anything really. Of course, it all came to a halt when Carter mentioned that a car had pulled up outside of the Baker Street apartment.

"That will be him. He was down at the laboratory."

Sherlock walked up the stair to 221B but paused as he got closer to the door. He noticed a few scratches against the outer metal of the lock on his apartment door, could here John milling about inside along with another person. He could hear her; yes her, judging by the amount of pressure upon the floorboards and the very faint smell of vanilla. He swung the door open and waited until she came out of the kitchen before stepping inside, the door closing behind him.

"Fancy seeing you here Carter. I expect that you've read over the file carefully and have some information for me?"

John looked towards the man in disbelief. According to Carter, it had been years since the two had seen each other and worked alongside each other in person. Coincidently she thought the same thing too.

"Years have passed and that is all I get from you, Mr Holmes? An immediate demand for information? I can feel the love that's just emanating from your person, Sherlock." She smirked a little before extending her arms out in front of her in. "Do I have to come over there to you?"

"Must I?" Sherlock drawled. With a roll of his eyes he made his way over the woman and allowed her to embrace him. "You'll not be quiet unless I return the gesture, true?"

"You know me all too well Sherlock."

John watched as the man pulled a face, one which had him convinced that it was physically painful for the Consulting Detective to lift his arms a fraction and return the embrace. This was unexpected.

"How come he's listening to you?" He asked Carter. Clearly this woman meant something to the Detective if he so willingly called upon her for help.

"Don't be daft John. My willingness to acquiesce to her request is purely for my benefit. She will refrain from displaying her irritable habits of singing, spouting trivial facts and being all-around annoying whilst we work this case."

"He's such a nice fellow, isn't he John? Sherlock," the man in question looked to her, an eyebrow raised, "I would like to inform you that John is now my favourite person. As such," she turned her attention towards the older man, "I would like to take you to dinner. Will that be acceptable? We could continue our previous conversation?"

Sherlock shot a fleeting glare at the Doctor, who was a little unnerved at this point. He would admit that, during the last few hours, he had grown to like the woman who he had only just been introduced to. He'd describe her as sunny; she was warm, personable and seemed to be very human; a complete opposite to the company he had been keeping.

"Why not? I'm feeling rather peckish." He replied with a shrug of his shoulders.

Carter smiled at him again. She was quite amused by the man and he just looked so, well, adorable really. She wanted to give this man a cuddle. Not a hug, not an embrace but a cuddle.

"You may as well join us now, Sherlock, rather than going through all the trouble of selecting a disguise to eavesdrop on us." She said, not at all wanting to find Sherlock in a dress ever again.

''

"So how exactly did you meet?" John asked Sherlock. "And where is she going to sleep?" He thought he might as well make use of the time Carter spent in the bathroom.

"We met in person and she is going to sleep in a bed."

"You know what I mean Sherlock, stop being evasive."

"I'm not being evasive John. If you're unable to ask the right questions in order to get the answers you seek, why should I be blamed?"

"Asides from meeting in person, can you tell me how you met Carter? Where did you meet her? How long have you known her? Why did you invite her over?"

"We met during a case I was working years ago."

" _What do you mean we need an expert? I'm the expert Lestrade."_

" _Look Sherlock, you are a brilliant detective, I'll give you that, but if we want any information out of this guy, we need someone a bit more, well, human; someone who can speak his language."_

" _Human? What good is that going to do?"_

 _There was a knock on the door and it opened slightly._

" _Sir, she's here."_

" _Bring her up."_

" _Yes Sir."_

 _Sherlock did not turn around; not when he heard the door open for a second time, not when he heard footsteps approaching both he and Lestrade and not even when he heard her voice._

" _It's a pleasure to see you again Carter. Thanks for coming by on such short notice."_

" _It was no problem at all and you know it. Now, where is he?"_

" _Just down the hall in the third room to your right."_

 _Carter nodded before turning to the tall man next to her. She peered up at him, waiting patiently for him to turn around and introduce himself._

" _I'm Carter, Sir. We obviously haven't met before."_

 _When she was greeted by nothing but silence Lestrade shook his head and was about to introduce her to Sherlock Holmes himself when the woman poked him in the side. Sherlock reacted immediately: He all but flew backwards whilst casting an offended and horrified look at the woman, then his side before glaring at her._

" _You saw that, Lestrade. I'd like to file a complaint against one of your officers. She just assaulted me."_

 _Greg just shook his head in exasperation._

" _She didn't assault you Sherlock. Shut up. We need to get a move on."_

" _Will you be observing, Mr Holmes?"_

" _Early twenties; mixed nationality but prominently of an English descent, middle class but more towards the poorer end of the spectrum. Works as a freelance linguist if the notes you carrying are anything to go by. Graduated from…Didn't graduate at all; doesn't even hold a recognised degree in any language, even English. Family? None. I wonder what happened to them. Estranged? No, no. As much as you may have pushed people away with your tendencies to invade personal space they would not have ostracised you for such a petty thing. Adopted? No, but closer. They're all dead; murder. No next of kin or other relations which is extraordinarily odd. What is it now Lestrade?"_

 _Greg couldn't believe that he actually went to this guy for help every now and again. He just hoped that the woman would brush it off and get to work._

" _Very well done Mr Holmes, but what of you? Mid-twenties, aristocratic English family with an older brother; the clothing screams designer and with the way it moves, I can tell it is no fake. Narcissistic qualities, anti-social behaviour: you must be a self-diagnosed sociopath, one of whom is high functioning. Intelligent; incredibly so. I'm assuming you harbour obsessive compulsive tendencies; it's a guaranteed trait of geniuses. Now, I have some work to do and you have done nothing but keep me from my job. I'll start now."_

 _Lestrade looked gobsmacked. He'd known this woman for years and not once had she ever displayed that kind of intelligence nor had she ever been so upfront. Sherlock's eyes narrowed at the figure disappearing down the corridor, sneering before a small smirk unwillingly played upon his lips._

" _Well come on Lestrade." He said, fixing his coat collar and waiting beside the door. "We best ensure that your human doesn't make a mess of things."_

"She deduced you? How?"

"Not everyone in the world is as small minded as the rest of you, John, really. It wasn't that impressive anyway."

"Not impressive? How is that not impress-"

"What's impressive John?" Carter asked, as Sherlock, ever the gentleman, stood to help her back into her seat. "You must stop that Sherlock, honestly."

"I am but a simple gentleman." He replied in a monotonous drawl. He inwardly smirked as he watched a very familiar blush make its way up the woman's neck, dusting her cheeks as it always did whenever he pulled her seat out for her.

"Sherlock was telling me about how you met. Did you really deduce him?"

"It wasn't that hard to be perfectly honest with you. I may be a linguist but I do have a background in psychology and this man here just screamed certain qualities that had me reading him like an open book."

"Would you deduce me?"

She laughed, causing John turn a little pink himself.

"I'm not too sure. The most I can get from looking at you is that you're an older gentleman, you've worked as a marksman; army most likely judging by the way you hold yourself and that you are absolutely adorable. If ever I designed a teddy, it would be reminiscent of you, Doctor Watson."

"Oh do be quiet with your insane babble. I'd prefer if you didn't try to make a pass on my roommate Carter. It's highly unprofessional."

"Don't worry Sherlock. If I were to have Michelangelo paint me a picture, it would have been of the rebellious Angel Sherlock Holmes." She turned to John and stage whispered, "It's the cheekbones; makes him look villainous in divine kind of a way."

"Cheekbones can't look villainous Carter. Stop personifying physical traits."

"They can Sherlock. You be quiet."

John was perfectly content being ignored at the moment. He was absolutely engrossed in the interactions of his roommate and this woman. It was odd, but John could definitely tell there was more to the story than the two of them being acquaintances. In fact, the bantering, had one of the participants not been Sherlock Holmes, could be misconstrued as flirting.

The evening came to an end, Carter insisting on paying the bill.

" _I_ invited _you_. Put your wallet away Doctor or else we'll have problem."

Standing outside of the restaurant they said their goodbyes.

"I'll be around early. I apologise in advance, John, if I wake you up. Good night and sweet dreams to you both." She gave each of them a hug and a peck on the cheek before walking off.

"Will she be alright?"

"You've known her less than twelve hours John. There's no need to worry. She's staying in a hotel two streets away; she will be fine."

John was surprised that Sherlock hadn't insisted she give up the information and felt the need to know. As they entered 221B, John asked him.

"She will tell me tomorrow. Do you think I should have insisted?"

"Well, no I was just wondering why you didn't. I mean, it's you." Sherlock raised an eyebrow to John at that statement. "You're not exactly the most, uh, kind person."

"Yes. I suppose so. Regardless, I can be a decent person, John, and you'd do well to remember that."

John shook his head. He's warning me to be mindful and to refrain from judging others? He thought.

"That's not what I meant Sherlock and you know it."

Sherlock flashed the Doctor a smirk before announcing that he'd be retiring to bed.

''

"You're kidding me." John said to himself as he made his way towards the living room. "It's four in the bloody morning. Keep it down will yo-" He stopped and stared, blinking occasionally and allowed his mouth to hang open in surprise.

Sherlock had Carter in an embrace, smiling ear to ear and had then promptly picked her up and spun her around, pulling her to him once again. Noticing John, Sherlock grabbed the man by the shoulders and shook him.

"This is why I invited her John! She is simply wonderful! If there were to be a person who was almost as clever as me, it would be Carter."

"Would you like some tea John?" Carter asked him as he was finally released from Sherlock's hold.

"What…..What, exactly, did I miss?"

"We're going to the circus tonight John. You may want to invite that girl of yours, uh, Sarah I believe."

"Wait, what?"

"Oh do keep up John."

"Here you are John. It'll wake you up or at least get you functioning."

"Thank you."

"Where's mine?" Sherlock inquired.

"Oh hush you. Here is your awful coffee."

"Thank you."

"You're both welcome."

Sherlock smirked as John looked between the two, before looking at his tea and resuming his staring.

"She solved the case. The graffiti was a warning. The Chinese traders use a certain type of numbering system, Hangzhou; the symbols found in both apartments represented the numbers fifteen and one. The encryption was a simple book code. We find the book, turn to page fifteen and look for the first word. In this case, it turned out to be the visitors guide to London, conveniently available at almost every newsagent and tourist destination and it's free."

"How did you figure out all of that?" He asked the woman in wonder. "I mean, it could have been any book ever written."

"Both men had been out of the country so I figured there had to be a connection. Turns out they were both in China recently which led me to immediately recognise the characters on the walls. Since they had been visiting a foreign country it wasn't too much of a stretch to think that somebody may have followed them back here to London and what do people usually pick up the moment they land in a foreign country?"

"A guide book." John answered.

"Precisely. The message to those two bankers was 'deadman'. It was a threat. These two men obviously dabbled in a little something they shouldn't of: smuggling. With a little tip off from a friend of a friend, I found a few new characters. A jade pin was stolen and smuggled into London; a jade pin worth a hefty nine million U.S dollars."

"Where does the circus fit in?"

"Carter is a linguist, as I'm certain you know but her knowledge for languages goes beyond that of mere dialects." Sherlock began, sounding like a child showing off his new, expensive toy. "She is quite accomplished in the language of computer codes."

"You're a hacker?" John asked her incredulously.

"I'm not a hacker. Encryption is a type of code and code is a language."

"Yes, she's a hacker. She looked into the darkest reaches of Cyberspace to find the name of one General Shan."

"The woman is a well-known, well-respected and an ultimately feared individual. She's some old woman who is borderline psychotic. She's running the Chinese Circus that is town for this week only."

"The man who broke into Van Coon's actually climbed?! He's a circus performer?!" John once again exclaimed. "My God you are brilliant."

"I do have my moments but I wouldn't go that far." She replied modestly.

"When do we leave?"

''

"Why isn't Carter joining us?"

"She is Coulrophobic. She refuses to go anywhere near the vicinity of a circus, an ice cream van and avoids the court jesters at Medieval Fares."

John blinked. He wondered if Sherlock had ever tried 'curing' her of her phobia.

"You know you're very thoughtful towards Carter." He then said.

"She's a close acquaintance."

"Hmmm, yeah, so you say."

Sherlock shot him a look before changing the direction of the conversation.

"We need to go into the backstage area; there's surely something for us to find in there."

''

"How is Sherlock, my dear?"

"You've people following him around on a constant basis, Mycroft, but if you must know he seems to be doing alright. Mind you, I only got here yesterday."

"And to think of all the progress that may have been made had you arrived earlier."

"I'm going to go out on a limb and assume you'd like me to try and keep your brother out of trouble?"

"If that wouldn't be too much trouble of course."

"Why on Earth would it be trouble? Sherlock only thrives on danger, Mycroft. Rest assured, I suppose, that I will do what I must to keep him away from the clutches of death." She said, lifting a hand to her heart theatrically.

"Thank you."

"No need to; I'm always willing to help."

"So, how have you been?"

She sent Mycroft a look, one that had him chuckling before he questioned her again.

"What happened that made you return to London? Last I heard, you wanted to avoid the city at all costs."

"It's safe for me to be here again."

"Ah, so you sorted them out?"

"All of them. Though there is one part of the puzzle that I just can't seem to connect. They were all 'sponsored'; well that's what they told me. It's such an odd way of phrasing it. These criminals were working in conjunction with an unknown benefactor, one who is much more powerful than I realised. This person…..this person has power that extend internationally; they literally hold the world in their hands."

"What makes you think it is a single person?"

"It has to be and it's more than likely a 'he'. Any more than one person would jeopardise any plans; there'd always be a conflict of some sort because there always is. 'The greater the power, the greater the fall': It's best to trust only yourself when dealing in the Underworld, Mycroft."

"That's rather worrying Carter."

"You know who it is. You know a name."

Mycroft paused, hand extended towards the glass of scotch he had poured for himself.

"You won't tell me." She waited for him to either confirm or deny and when he refused to answer she knew. "That's alright. Just make sure you keep a close watch okay?"

"If he becomes any more of a threat he will be eliminated. No harm will come to you dear."

"Of course it will but I appreciate your attempts at being assuring. May I leave now? I've some work to do."

"The car is downstairs."

"I'm going to walk. You can watch me on your screens. Night Mycroft and enjoy the cakes."

"As if I weren't able to Carter. Sweetest dreams to you dear." He was regretful for not telling her anything, but it was best this way. She'd dig, try her hardest to reveal the information she needed but she'd hi a dead end. She'd slowly turn her focus onto something more mundane, much less dangerous and Mycroft would rest a little easier knowing that Carter was no longer on Moriarty's radar.

''

"What did he want?"

"He wanted an honest answer as to how his little brother was."

"Really?"

"How did the circus go? You're neck's looking a little bruised. Didn't have too much fun without me?"

"There was not a clown in sight; you should have come."

"Did you sort it out though?"

"The case is closed, if that's what you mean."

"Brilliant. What are you up to now?"

"You didn't finish answering me. What else did my brother want?"

"Nothing." It was true, he didn't want anything else. _She_ may have wanted something but Sherlock hadn't asked about her specifically.

Sherlock eyed her for a moment.

"Well I'll be off then. It was wonderful seeing you again."

"It's been refurbished; 221C. You'll be able to easily afford the rent. Mrs Hudson wants to speak with you in the morning to properly introduce herself."

"You better be joking Sherlock. I'm not living in this part of England; bad track record and all that."

"My brother informed me that it was safe for you to return. You will remain here, won't you?" His gaze was always piercing and the fact that he blinked minimally when holding eye contact always unnerved her a little; that being said, she had the habit of doing the exact same thing to other though her eyes always seemed to welcome others there was something that had people on edge when they realised she was looking at them.

" _If_ I sta-"

"Brilliant. I'll see you in the morning. Do feel free to intrude but please keep your infernal habits to a minimum."

She laughed as she made her way downstairs to apartment 221C. There was no point in going against the wishes of Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes. Those boys were a force to be reckoned with and the tantrums that Sherlock threw were infamous.

Sherlock smirked, knowing that he would get his way no matter what. He smiled as he thought about Carter and the days of old. If he were truly honest with himself, and would accept that he might not be a sociopath as he so vehemently claimed, he would admit that he might actually feel something for the woman. They'd worked with each other on numerous occasions, had known each other for many years and her presence was one that he didn't mind. In fact, he wouldn't mind if she were to always 'be there', so to speak. It wasn't too long after his last thought that he heard her voice carrying up the stairwell. Singing was one of the many habits that Carter had. He stood, collecting his violin as he made his way to the window and started to play, smiling softly when he heard her change tunes, singing along with the notes he played as he serenaded the night sky.

''

* * *

 **Authors Note:** Okay, I admit this is cringe-worthy but have mercy please. As usual, the ideas I had for this fanfiction began at the end of the final episode of Season 1: The Game is On. Do feel free to leave your opinions. I hope I haven't written Sherlock too out of character.


	2. Chapter 2

The Language of Life: A Sherlock Fanfiction

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own the BBC's 'Sherlock'. If I did, I would have met the gorgeous Benedict Cumberbatch and the absolutely loveable Martin Freeman.

* * *

It had been a quiet couple of months and this just about drove the Consulting Detective insane. Though Carter was rather amusing to be around, he was getting too restless for her liking and had forbade him from going to work with her.

" _Sherlock, please? You've done nothing but insult each and every person that has come to me for help. You don't even like technology all that much! I need to concentrate on my work and you," she poked him in the chest, "need to go and get a job yourself. Relying on your brother and John is absolutely ghastly."_

" _I_ _ **do**_ _work. I solve cases that those incompetent people down in Scotland Yard can't; which is practically every single case they've ever gotten."_

" _Why not work on some cold cases then. It'll be more challenging if you have only what's in the file to go on."_

 _He paused and thought about it then promptly got frustrated with himself for never thinking about that before._

" _Cold cases? Cold cases?! Why have I never thought of that? See!" He exclaimed, causing Carter to jump at the sudden explosion of sound. "I need something stimulating for my brain or else this happens."_

" _My God Sherlock, what's next? The way I'm standing is at too much of a particular angle and, as such, it is affecting your brain's capacity to process information?"_

" _Yes, actually, now that you mention it. If you'd kindly just shift four degrees to the right then m-" He ducked just in time but had no time nor space to miss the second or third book that was lobbed at his head. "What the bloody hell was that woman?! Are you trying to kill me?"_

" _Out Sherlock. You're pissing me off. Go! Go annoy John or your brother or even Lestrade; just stop bothering me!" Carter was about to start pulling her own hair out when she saw the look on Sherlock's face. He was doing this to get a rise out of her; to gain a new source of entertainment. She launched herself over the table and crashed into the Detective._

" _You bloody bugger! That's it. No, no fair! Get off of me!"_

 _The two wrestled for bit before Sherlock pinned Carter to the ground, straddling the woman and smiling down at her._

" _Now this, this is fun."_

" _Oh come off it you bloody git. Physical anything is a form of torture for you. Now, get off before someone comes in here and sees us."_

" _What's wrong with that Carter?" He said, leaning down, hovering over form. A completely sinful grin stretched across his face. "Do you think they'd get the wrong impression?"_

" _Oh sod off. You're going to get me fired."_

" _Good. Then you can assist me with more cases."_

" _Sherlock! You can't just go and sabotage people's career's to suit your own wants and needs."_

" _I certainly can Carter."_

" _I'm going to wipe that smug smirk off of your face you-"_

" _Bloody Hell! Uh, I mean, I was just…..I've clearly interrupted something. I'll just, uh….. That's completely unprofessional you know." John said before making himself scarce._

 _Carter looked completely horrified at the moment and Sherlock could not stop the laughter that had escaped him. She was red-faced and her eyes were wide, hair all over the place and this would be a memory he kept._

" _You're looking a little pink, darling. What could possibly be the matter?"_

 _She glared up at him, knowing full well that she could try her best to get him back but he'd return it tenfold. He stood up and held a hand to her, helping her back up._

" _We best be going."_

 _Carter's face twitched as Sherlock smiled at her innocently. He then smirked as her phone sounded._

" _Hello? Oh sod off! I don't care who you are, I will hurt you next time I see you if you even think of saying anymore on this matter. Good day to you Sir." She rounded on Sherlock. "Don't even think of starting_ _ **Sherly**_ _because you will be introduced to a world of pain and humiliation."_

John had not been able to look at the two as they had gone to catch up with him, much to Sherlock's amusement, and when Mrs Hudson was informed of the compromising position the Doctor had found them in, she had cornered him and Carter separately to ask about each other's intentions.

" _Now I don't want you to be just fooling around with that girl, Sherlock."_

" _She's not a girl, Mrs Hudson."_

" _Be quiet you. It's rude to interrupt someone when they're speaking to you." He rolled his eyes but remained seated. "What are your intentions?"_

" _My intentions Mrs Hudson? Whatever do you mean?"_

" _Don't go giving me the innocent act Sherlock, you know very well what I mean."_

" _My intentions are honourable. I wish only for her happiness and I believe I can be the source of it." He said, adding a wistful sigh as he cast a glance out the window. Carter was going to kill him when Mrs Hudson talked to her._

 _Of course, the Landlady caught the smile that played upon his lips and truly believed his words. Knowing that Mrs Hudson had caught the look, Sherlock smirked inwardly. Carter_ was _going to murder him._

" _You best not go breaking her heart then. Oh," she thought to add just before Sherlock exited her kitchen, "please keep the noise down to a minimum. I'd rather not hear of your exploits and I'm sure John would do well not to hear the two of you as well."_

" _I can't make any promises there, Mrs Hudson, though it seems we've been quiet enough so far." With a smile, he was gone and Mrs Hudson stood in her kitchen, gaping at the door before preparing herself to catch Carter on her way in._

Oh yes, he did not hear a word from the linguistic extraordinaire for a good week after that stunt. He couldn't possibly go and invade her apartment though, not now. He had been in the proverbial dog house and had despised every second of it. His lesson had been learnt and John had been lumped with an irritable, bored and brooding Sherlock. The Detective would have much rathered Carter try to end his existance with a kitchen knife then ignore him completely.

"I've never liked you." Sherlock said suddenly, eyes narrowing at the smiley face on the wall. "Something must be done about you."

Shots had been fired and the face still continued to smile, much to Sherlock's chagrin. It wasn't long before John came barging through the door.

"What the bloody Hell are you doing?"

"I'm bored John. Bored, bored, bored. I need a case."

John looked at the wall and then at Sherlock, eyes narrowing as he spotted his gun.

"That's my gun!"

"Yes, yes very good John. It's amazing that you came to that conclusion."

"Put the gun down Sherlock. My God you've been nothing but a pain the last few weeks. Is Carter not speaking with you again?"

"Of course she is." John gave him a look when Sherlock seemed as if he wouldn't continue. "But she won't allow me to accompany her at work or to the shopping centres and she hasn't been all too enthusiastic about joining me on cases."

"She was with you all yesterday! She can't be by your side every waking moment Sherlock. She's an independent woman. Oh, and speaking of independence, you're going to be on your own tonight. I'm staying at Sarah's."

"What? Why on Earth would you do that?"

"Because you're being exasperating! I can't take any more of your moods. You shot the wall for no good reason!"

"I had a perfectly good reason John."

"Okay, let's hear it then."

"I didn't like the way it looked at me."

"Oh for God's sake Sherlock. Look, I'll see you tomorrow. Try not to blow up the apartment okay?"

''

Carter returned home during the early evening and went upstairs to see what the two men were up to.

"Sherlock, John? Are you two home?"

"Oh good. You're here."

"John's at Sarah's isn't he?" She questioned, looking at the state of the kitchen. "He's not coming back 'til tomorrow then?"

"Yes. It seems that Doctor Watson much prefers the company of the less intelligent. I do not blame him, however, as he is unable to fully appreciate the brilliant mind that I possess."

"How modest you are, Sherlock. Now, what are you experimenting on this time?"

She spent the evening listening and assisting Sherlock with his various experiments, honestly enjoying herself. She found his work fascinating, truly she did, and she did feel a little guilty about ignoring the genius for a little over a week.

"Do you two need anything from the shops by the way? I'm going early so I'll be back by eight."

"No, I think whatever you buy will be fine for us."

"That's right; I forgot that you two are unable to look after yourselves. I've the day off tomorrow so if you get a case, I'll help."

He nodded and said a quick 'Goodnight' to her as she made her way to apartment downstairs.

''

Sherlock paused in his playing as he let out a frustrated sigh. The morning was proving to go by too slowly for his liking, despite the fact that he knew time hadn't changed its pace.

"Why must it all be so boring?!"

He was pushed to the ground by the force of what had to have been an explosion and couldn't help but think that he may have jinxed himself before he stumbled to the broken window. His thoughts were muddled and he was feeling disoriented. A knock sounded at the still-closed door a few minutes later as Mrs Hudson ran into the apartment and began fretting over Sherlock.

"Oh dear. I hope you aren't too hurt. Do you feel any pain Sherlock?" She rambled on, giving the man a quick check over. "Lucky John and Carter weren't here. I suppose that's something."

"What time is it?"

"Pardon?"

"What time is it Mrs Hudson?"

"A little over eight. Why?"

Sherlock was a flurry of movement as he all but flew down the stairs of 221 Baker Street. There was rubble from the apartment building across the street, rubble from the apartments next door to his and he watched as passers-by called out for help. His mind was moving at an incredible speed as he processed the scene in front of him. That's when he spotted her. He ran to her side and kneeled down. Carter was staring blankly at some of the bricks that surrounded her, a cut on her forehead bled, as did the various other lacerations to her person.

"Carter? Carter. Talk to me; now woman!" He demanded, hands frantically moving over her.

She turned to look at him, eyes forlorn and he worried for a moment that she might be seriously injured.

"My groceries; they're under there." She said and Sherlock had never been happier to hear such a stupid sentence in his whole life.

"I'll get you new groceries. Come with me." He guided her to one of the paramedic's and waited as she was checked over and cleaned up.

"She should be fine; just a bit of shock is all. That, and she just lost all her shopping to the pile of rubble over there." The man said with a laugh. "Other than that, she's good to go."

Sherlock held onto her as he helped her to his apartment. She wasn't fit enough to be alone right now he decided and set her down onto his bed.

"Sorry Sherlock. I'm fine. I just wasn't expecting that to happen." She attempted to get up and leave but was stopped.

"You're staying here and that's that."

She conceded with little more than a half-hearted protest about being in his sanctuary. It wasn't too long after that Mycroft turned up at the apartment.

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm checking to see if my brother is alive and well after an apartment building blew up."

"Oh how gallant of you. Would you like me to award you with a medal, brother dearest?"

Mycroft half sneered at his brother.

"Well it seems you're alright. Where is Miss Carter?"

"She's none of your concern." Sherlock answered, still glaring at his brother.

"Where is she Sherlock? Stop acting like an impudent child. I was informed that she was outside of the building when it exploded."

"She's fine. She has a few lacerations."

"They ruined my groceries." Mycroft looked to his brother after glancing at Carter, who emerged from Sherlock's room, eyebrow raised before his eyes narrowed. Sherlock could practically hear Mycroft yelling at him. 'What have you done to her?' was clearly the question that was being asked.

"Your groceries?" He asked, rather amused at the childish behaviour the woman was displaying.

"Yes my groceries and when I find out who is responsible I will disembowel the idiot, cook his innards and serve it to him on a silver platter; the bloody bastard!"

Almost everyone milling about Sherlock's apartment jumped at the sudden exclamation and looked to the small woman with an ounce of fear. Carter straightened her shirt and pulled her hair back into a messy bun.

"I apologise for that, Mycroft. Almost getting crushed by a brick wall has some adverse effects upon a person. Why are you here?"

Sherlock let out a small chuckle as Carter snapped at his brother.

"I request the services of my brother. Sherlock, I have a case that you would be most interested in."

"No. I'm far too busy."

"What could possibly be taking up your time She-"

"Carter?! Sherlock?! Where are you?!" John came barrelling through door as he shouted out for the two of them, pushing an unsuspecting forensic scientist down the stairs. "Sorry!" he shouted down to them as he stopped, seeing Sherlock, Carter and Mycroft.

"Good morning John. How are you today?"

John immediately went to Carter and she once again found herself being checked over.

"Paramedics did a good job. Feeling nauseous? Light headed?"

"Thanks for your concern John. I'm absolutely fine though."

"John."

"Mycroft. Sherlock."

"I would like to say, for the record, that it was not me who blew up the apartment." Sherlock quickly explained.

Carter giggled at that, trying to subdue the laughter as John glared at him, not appreciating the humour; not right now anyway.

"As I was saying, I want you to take this case."

"I told you that I am busy. I've not time to waste."

"Wait a minute. You're offering him a case? What are you talking about Sherlock? You've got nothing to do!"

"Why Sherlock, you weren't lying to your brother were you?"

Sherlock scowled, first at John then at Mycroft.

"I'm a very busy man. No. Do it yourself Mycroft."

"He'll take it." John then said, nodding at Mycroft.

"I shall text you the information. Do not keep me waiting Sherly." He then turned to Carter, holding an arm out to her. "I hope you were not harmed too badly and do not fret about your groceries. I will have someone come by with som-"

"She doesn't need anything from you Mycroft." Sherlock spoke up as Carter gave the man a quick hug. Mycroft returned the embrace.

"Well then, in that case: good day Miss Carter, Doctor, Sherly."

John rounded on Sherlock as soon as Mycroft had closed the door behind him.

"You weren't going to take it? You've been complaining about being bored for how long now? Why the bloody hell would you not say 'yes'?"

"He's Mycroft. I'm not going to allow myself to lower to such a standard that I actually take orders from him."

"Sibling rivalry and spite? Come on Sherlock!"

''

"So they're significant? What do they mean?" Lestrade asked Sherlock, John and Carter standing by waiting to hear what the man had to say.

"Ancient civilisations, even the criminal underworld of today, use pips as a warning; as a threat."

"What about the phone? Why would someone send you a replica of the phone from 'A Study in Pink'?"

"'A Study in Pink'? Not you too, Lestrade." The older man smirked at him, about to ask him a question when the pink phone began ringing.

"Hello?" Sherlock answered.

"Hello…..Sexy. I've sent….you…a little puzzle….just to…say…'hi'."

"Who is this? Why are you crying?" John, Carter and Greg all raised their eyebrows towards Sherlock.

"I'm not….crying…..I'm typing…and this stupid….bitch," the woman speaking barely got that word out as she continued to sob in between words, "is reading…it…out…. Have fun….solving the….puzzle."

The line went dead.

"The game is on, isn't it?" Carter asked.

"The game is on." Sherlock confirmed, looking positively giddy. He almost skipped out of Scotland Yard as he waved down a taxi, the three other people running to catch up to him. As they got to him he held out the phone: it showed a pair of shoes in an all too familiar setting.

"That's my bedroom." Carter stated before looking to Sherlock. "Why has someone broken into my apartment?"

"Come on you two. 221 Baker Street." Sherlock told the cabbie as he waited for John and Carter to get in.

They stood around the shoes in 221C.

"They're in near-perfect condition."

Sherlock rewarded her with a smile.

"John, are you going to contribute at all or just stand there admiring our intellect? Either way I don't really mind." Sherlock told the older man.

"They're from the early 90's I'd say. Every kid wanted a pair of these back then."

"Thank you John. Do either of you know who these shoes belong to?" He waited. When he knew he wouldn't receive an answer he continued. "These shoes belonged to Carl Powers: a young boy that had died whilst swimming. His case was very peculiar. You see, he was missing his shoes. I tried alerting the police to this but of course they didn't listen to me. I _knew_ they were important."

"Wait, how old were you? Ten or something?" John asked.

"This was your first case." Carter stated and the two of them looked at Sherlock in awe. The man truly was a genius. "Absolutely amazing." Carter breathed out. Sherlock looked at her, hearing her whispered response and tilted his head as he watched her for a moment.

"Thank you Carter. I'll need to take these to the lab. You both are coming."

John pulled out his phone as it alerted him that he had a text.

"It's Mycroft. He wants you to investigate the West murder."

"I told him that I wasn't going to take the case. I've more important things to do, especially now. You go. I'm sure you've been able to pick up some skills in deduction and investigations. You'll be fine."

"I'll go with you if you'd li-"

"I need you to go with me to St. Bart's. John will be fine on his own. We'll see you back at the flat."

Carter shrugged and offered John an apologetic smile. He just shook his head and read through the file that was now on his phone.

"Go along. He'll throw a tantrum if you don't go with him."

"You will do fine John. You're a smart man with a good head on his shoulders. Just don't let Mycroft push you around, alright? If he does, tell me and I'll sort him out."

''

"Hi! I'm Molly Hooper."

"Lovely to meet you, I'm Car-"

"Carter! There is no time for useless formalities. I need you here, now." Sherlock interrupted, grabbing the woman by the hand, hauling her over to his spot in the lab.

"Sherlock!"

"Oh, fine. Molly, this is Carter. She's my linguist."

Molly looked between the two before her posture changed, sending Carter an odd look. _His_ linguist? Molly thought.

"A linguist? Really? What can you speak?"

"She can speak every language known to man and otherwise, whether it be currently used or has been forgotten with time."

"She can also speak for herself." Carter interjected, discreetly elbowing the Detective before turning back to Molly. "I'm not really all that good. You're a pathologist, correct?"

"Uh, yes. Um, I need to go. I'll be back a little later."

"Finally some peace; her fawning is enough to make a person nauseous."

"You shouldn't be that rude to her Sherlock."

"She did send a filthy look in your direction when you elbowed me in the ribs. Mind you I would like an apology for that."

"Go and work your magic Mr Holmes. Is there a staff kitchen anywhere or a cafeteria?"

"Turn right, two corridors down and on the first floor. Coffee. Thank you."

"Cheeky sod. You're lucky I like you Sherlock or else you'd be getting your own coffee or going without."

"Yes, lucky." He said as she disappeared out of the door. "Now if I'm correct this shouldn't take all that long."

By the time she had come back up to the third floor, Sherlock had already looked at three samples.

"I know what it was that killed Carl Powers."

"Then why are we still here?"

"I need the evidence to back it up. I can't very well claim it was Clostridium Botulinum and not have the proof of it."

"And that is what's on that petri dish. Good. Where will we go after this?"

"To Lestrade of course."

"Going to bring up the fact that the police force in Sussex didn't listen to you when you told them it was murder?"

"Sussex?"

"It wasn't hard to find the article Sherlock. The internet truly is a wealth of knowledge."

"So it is."

"Hello again Molly."

Molly walked back into the room, giving Carter a tight-lipped smile before focusing solely on the Consulting Detective.

"Um, Sherlock? Would you like a cuppa? I can fetch one for you now if you'd like."

He simply pointed to the styrofoam cup that was sitting behind him on the counter and continued looking into the microscope. He did look up though when a knock sounded.

"Molly, I was looking for you. Are we sti-" The man trailed off once he noticed the other two people in the room with them. "Wait, I think I recognise you. Are you? You're _the_ Sherlock Holmes, aren't you? I mean, I just never thought…I'm Jim." He held his hand out to shake Sherlock's. "It's a….pleasure."

Carter watched the exchange. The man was not all that tall, but she really couldn't judge him solely upon that, though something about him screamed 'complex'. His outward admiration, and the fact that he practically died when he shook Sherlock's hand, clearly gave away the fact that this man may have had a bit of a thing for the Detective. She eyed him curiously. The way he was put together, not physically but the other aspects: his clothes, his hair, his make-up, had her slightly suspicious. The man screamed 'homosexual' but she caught it, a sly smile that slipped onto the face of Jim and disappeared within the blink of an eye. There was something more to the fellow and she had a feeling it wasn't anything good.

"Yes, I suppose it is."

Jim spotted Carter and smiled largely.

"I'm sorry but I don't know who you are. Are you new here?"

"I guess you could say that. I think I'll be coming around here more often if Sherlock here has anything to do with it. I may as well apply; it might be more convenient for everybody." She sent him a polite smile as he shook her hand and came to stand on the other side of Sherlock.

"Jim works in the IT Department. He's my boyfriend." Molly spoke up.

"Yep, that's me. What are you doing over here? Can I see wha-"

Sherlock looked about ready to kill the man as he knocked over two petri dishes and a slide that the Detective had previously been using.

"Oh! Sorry! I'll just…..I'm sorry; really I am." Jim scrambled to pick up the items and stacked them as neatly as he could back onto the counter.

Sherlock just looked down on him with condescension and distaste practically rolling off of him in waves of warning.

"It's alright Jim. Accidents happen; there's no need to be sorry about it, right Sherlock?" Carter offered a kind smile to Jim, genuinely feeling empathy towards him. She'd done embarrassing things in front of people, including Sherlock, before and had been absolutely mortified. She may have a gut feeling that he was bad news but that look from Sherlock had her pushing it aside for the moment. Poor thing, she thought.

"If you don't mind, I need to get back to my research." He simply said, looking back into the microscope and ending any further interactions with the flustered IT worker.

"Right. I should probably get back to work now anyway. I'll pick you up at seven. See you then Molls. It was wonderful meeting you Sherlock; you too Carter."

"He's gay." Sherlock announced as soon as he heard the footsteps retreating down the hall.

"What?" Molly said. "No he's not. We've been dating for three weeks now."

"And domestic bliss suits you Molly. You've gained three pounds."

"Two and a half."

"Three. That man spends far too much time on his appearance."

"He just likes to look his best."

"Oh how naïve you are Miss Hooper. If the excessive hair products, make-up and clear attraction towards me hadn't been enough to clue you in, I'm sure the fact that he oh so subtly left his number for me under this slide would have you otherwise convinced." He held the offensive piece of paper and put it over the flame of a Bunsen burner.

"You….You always do this!"

"Always? This is the first time you've introduced me to a boyfriend since I met you. What do you mean 'always'?" Molly just ran from the room, tears rolling down her face as she turned to leave. "We should be leaving now too." He then added. Theor conversation continued as they entered a the back seat of a cab.

"Sherlock, you do realise that you just crushed a woman's heart, right?"

"Should I have allowed her to continue being in a relationship with a man who wished she was a man?"

"You didn't necessarily need to be that blunt with her though. Surely you could have, I don't know, told it to her in less humiliating way?"

"She wouldn't have understood. Did you know she was looking at you as if you were filth? I don't think she likes you Carter."

"I wonder bloody why Sherlock." There was a second or two of silence before Carter let out a giggle.

"What is it?" Sherlock asked.

"She finally lands a man but he's about as head-over-heels in love with you as she is. Irony: you gotta love it."

"I was expecting you to berate me some more; to show more compassion towards Molly."

"You were right though Sherlock. She gave me no less than three dirty looks while Jim was in the room _and_ she ignored me when I said 'Hello again Molly'; she was rude."

"That is all it takes to get on your bad side? You still talk to me though." He pointed out.

"That's because you don't really mean it; you love me." She said, childishly poking her tongue out as she opened the door to step out onto the street. Sherlock went rigid and his face went blank as he stared ahead. "Well come on then. You were in a rush before."

He snapped out of it, paying the taxi fare and exited the vehicle.

"Lestrade." He said as he got to the front desk.

"What are you doing here freak?"

Carter could read the annoyance, disgust and hint of hatred that Sherlock obviously felt towards this woman. He turned around and was about to greet the Sargent when Carter spoke.

"With a face like yours, do you really think you should be judging others?"

Sally Donovan was taken aback by the woman's words.

"Who are you?" She said, giving the woman a once over before sneering at her.

"Oh, sorry. Where are my manners? I'm Carter. Carter Holmes. Who are you?" Sally looked back and forth between this Carter woman and Sherlock before shaking her head in disbelief. "Oh, and I feel as if I should let you know, for future reference: if you insult my husband again I will hurt you, officer of the law or not, I really don't care. Uh-uh," she said, holding her hand up, "don't bother. It's not a threat. I'm merely explaining the consequences of your actions so unless you want to end up on a suspension for harrassment, I suggest you be quiet and leave my Sherlock alone."

She grabbed Sherlock's hand and tugged him along behind her, slipping her arm around his waist as they went along. Sherlock pulled her to him and looked down at her, a smile playing on his lips, eyebrow raised.

"Was that really necessary?"

"She called you the F-word. I despise that word Sherlock."

"Husband and wife?"

"Merely to establish a claim and bond. Needless to say, I've a feeling she won't be calling you that word for quite a while now. Oh, where is Lestrade's office?"

"I was wondering when you would ask." He gently pressed a hand to the small of her back, guiding her to a small alcove which harboured an elevator. "Second Floor, darling."

"You're not going to let me forget this are you?"

"Never forget what Mrs Holmes? Though I must admit not only does Carter Holmes sound rather acceptable, the look on Donovan's face was priceless."

"Rather acceptable? I'll take it as a compliment. So her name's Donovan?"

"Sally Donovan."

"Are there any other deplorable characters that I should be aware of?"

Sherlock quickly knocked on the door to Greg's office before walking in.

"You're about to meet another, Carter."

The forensic scientist looked to Sherlock and grimaced. Funnily enough that was the exact same reaction as Sherlock.

"What can I do for you Sherlock? Hi Carter. How are you doing?"

"Stop leering Anderson." Sherlock said before Carter could answer Greg's questions. "Though I am aware of her beauty, I would appreciate if you didn't ogle my wife." Sherlock gently moved her to his side, out of Anderson's view.

Anderson's jaw dropped; Greg wasn't quite sure what was going on so he offered them a congratulations. Unable to gather his wits about him, Anderson just stood there before slowly making his way out of the office, clearly in disbelief as his eyes went from Sherlock to where Carter had been moved and back again.

"When did this happen then?" Greg asked them.

"It didn't. You're employees need to learn some respect or, at the very least, how to behave in public." Carter explained.

"Okay then. I won't ask anymore because I'm not entirely sure if I _want_ to know. Now what can I do for you?"

Sherlock explained what they had found on the shoes, explained that obviously the boy was murdered and that the murderer had contacted him.

"So who was the woman?"

"I've no idea but we've solved the case so-" As if on cue, the pink phone in Sherlock's coat pocket rang. "You murdered Carl Powers."

"Well done, you. You've solved the case. I never liked him, you know. He laughed at me, so I stopped him laughing. It's okay, by the way, that you went to the police. I've no qualms with your beautiful friend either. Until next time, Mr Holmes. Come and get me."

''

 **Authors Note:** I hope that I haven't written Sherlock too out of character. I know at some points he may seem a little off, for lack of a better word, but keep in mind that his relationship with Carter is pre-established. He's known her for over five years and they have worked together before. Oh and I hope the chapter wasn't too long either; I got carried away. Anyway, I hope you've enjoyed Chapter 2 of The Language of Life.


	3. Chapter 3

The Language of Life: A Sherlock Fanfiction

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own the BBC's 'Sherlock'. If I did, I would be living it up in London town.

* * *

They knew the stakes now: the lives of innocent people; many innocent people. The woman who had read aloud the messages on a phone had a bomb strapped to her chest with enough C4 to blow up an apartment building. That fact was not lost on Sherlock and he had Greg investigating the supposed gas-leak in Baker Street.

"You did…well to solve my last….puzzle. Nine hours it took you…You now have eight." The sounds of a young man filtered through the phone, seconds after Sherlock received another set of pips.

"You've stolen another voice. Where are you? What's all that noise in the background?"

"Noise? You mean the sounds of…..life? That will no longer….be a problem; if you don't solve….my next…..puzzle…..it'll no longer be a problem…for anybody." The line went dead and Sherlock glared at the phone.

''

"Another one so soon?"

"Yes John." Sherlock answered.

"How did your investigating go?" Carter asked John.

"I prefer being a combat-medic to be honest. Oi, Sherlock; think you could have a look at this?"

"Can't; busy."

"Whoever's doing this is threatening to detonate bombs if Sherlock doesn't solve the puzzles. As important as those Missile Documents are, this takes priority."

John looked to her.

"How do you know?"

"I've already read them." She said with a shrug.

"Then why the Hell am I running around like an idiot if there's a bloody copy of them?"

"Someone was murdered." Sherlock answered.

"What were you sent this time?" Carter asked him.

"We're going to go and look at a crime scene. Lestrade is already there."

''

Carter had been picked up by Mycroft after the fourth puzzle had been sent to Sherlock. They were unable to save the third victim. The elderly lady described the voice that spoke to her, breaking the rules that were set out before her. There was a nasty explosion, reminiscent of that in Baker Street which claimed the lives of twelve people.

"Carter."

"Mycroft. How are you doing?"

"Very well thank you and yourself, my dear?"

"We couldn't save the last victim and he claimed twelve."

Mycroft offered her a platter of baked treats and she couldn't deny indulging her sweet tooth at such a time.

"Sherlock has not looked at the West murder case, has he?"

"Of course not. How transparent is John when he lies?"

"If he were any more, I'd never see the man again."

Carter laughed at that. The army medic was just too much of an honest man.

"Would you like me to look into it?"

"If you would, I'd be grateful. You are familiar with what is on that USB stick, are you not?"

"Mycroft, what type of a person do you take me for?" She said, smiling at the man. "And what on Earth were you thinking, allowing for such documents to be carried around on a USB?"

Mycroft grimaced at that. It was easier to move information when it was on a small, inconspicuous USB; a universal device that, if lost, people would not bother to check.

"I admit it may not have been the finest display of intelligence by Agents but what's done is done and now it must be rectified."

"I'll have everything wrapped up by tonight. I'll call you in the early evening to let you know the progress and send you a text once I've concluded it."

"Thank you Carter."

"No problem at all 'Croft."

''

"Where is that infernal woman?!" Sherlock shouted in frustration, spinning about the room as he paced furiously.

John had gone to see Sarah tonight and Carter was still not home. It was nearing ten now and he was getting steadily agitated. He dived towards the pink phone that was sitting on the coffee table as it sounded.

 _Meet me at the pool. 11 pm._

''

"Hello Sherlock. Guess you weren't expecting this." Sherlock was shocked. John stood before him, beside the pool. "This is where Carl died." John breathed deeply. "I thought it was a fitting backdrop for our meeting."

Sherlock's eyes widened a fraction when John unzipped his jacket, revealing a bomb. John shook his head as Sherlock went to take a step forward.

"What would you like me to make him say next?" He then muttered the words 'gottle o' geer' under his breath, getting louder with each repeat of the phrase.

"Stop!" Sherlock shouted. "Stop it."

"Stop it? Stop what Sherlock Holmes? I stopped Carl; stopped his heart. Would you like me to do the same to John?"

There was an echo of footsteps, drawing Sherlock's attention.

"I gave you my number. I thought you might call." An Irish accent filtered through the room; a man slowly emerging, making his way to the pair. "Is that a British Army L9A1 or are you just happy to see me?"

"Both." Sherlock said, eyes narrowed at the man he knew as Jim from IT. "What do you want?"

"What do I want? It doesn't matter to you, surely. Besides, I like to think that I may have everything I need right here. Are you surprised? I mean, last time we met you thought I was a gay computer tech. Did you like it? I'm sure you appreciate the effort I went to."

"Who are you really?" Sherlock asked, gun trained on 'Jim', glancing towards John at random intervals.

The man smirked, his eyes standing out in the contrast of the shadows on the wall.

"You know, I've never had this much fun in my entire life! It all gets so boring after a while. There's only so many times I can listen to the cries for help before it all becomes mundane." He paused here, and, in a high-pitched voice, continued. "'Dear Jim, please help me kill my sister!', 'Dear Jim, I need help laundering money across the borders', 'Dear Jim, I need you to help me off my boss'. Who am I, Sherlock dear? I am James Moriarty."

"Consulting Criminal." Sherlock uttered. "Brilliant."

"Aren't I just?! But then I noticed someone: you Sherlock, righting all the wrongs, delivering justice and ruining my business with that brain of yours." He said, tapping his own head with his index finger.

"Thank you, I try."

"That wasn't a compliment."

"Yes it was."

"Oh, okay it was, but enough with the flirting, Sherlock." He then turned to John. "You can speak now, by the way."

"I'm fine Sherlock." Was the only thing John said as he tried his best to forget about the device that was strapped to his chest.

"It really is touching, the way you care for your pet. You know you shouldn't get too attached to him. Though he is as loyal as any dog." James said thoughtfully. "Now, what did I want? I believe you wanted to hear my grand monologue, didn't you Sherlock?"

"If you'd be so kind as to get on with it, then by all means: Dazzle me."

"What I want is simple. I wanted to meet you; I've a proposition for you. We could be great together, you and I. Our minds are alike; we are above the foolish humans that exist on this Earth. So, what do you say?" He asked with a disturbing amount of enthusiasm.

"You should know the answer already, Moriarty, unless, of course, you've been bluffing about your intelligence."

James sneered before grinning like a madman.

"You know what?" He clicked his fingers and red dots appeared over various kill points on John and, looking down, Sherlock realised he too was targeted. "Maybe I should just end it now."

"This isn't a game, Moriarty."

"Oh, I know Sherlock."

"You've killed innocent people because you're bored; innocent people have died."

"That's what people do!" James' voice boomed, causing John to jump at the unexpected volume of the psychotic man's voice. "That's what they do." He said in calmer tone. He turned around then, walking away, whistling as he went as Sherlock aimed his gun.

"What would happen if I were to kill you now?"

"You would have the pleasure of seeing the surprise on my face, but only for a moment. You'd be joining me soon after, as would your friend."

John was still standing in the exact same position as he had been the entire time.

"Until next time Sherlock. I look forward to playing with you some more."

It was a minute before the lasers disappeared and Sherlock immediately went over to John, relieving him of the explosive device.

"Alright? John, are you alright?" The older man let out a relived sigh, nodding his head.

"I'm glad no one was around to see that." He said, confusing Sherlock.

"Tearing clothes off of me in a darkened, empty pool room; people would talk."

Sherlock held a hand out and helped John to his feet. He then kicked the device away from them when they heard giggling. James Moriarty re-entered the area.

"Sorry boys. I changed my mind. I'm often whimsical and am very partial to change. To be fair on myself though, that is my only flaw." James then spoke aloud in another language, Gaelic, Sherlock was certain.

A voice answered back; a familiar one and both men became tense, well more so than they were before, as Carter stepped into the room.

"I almost forgot to introduce you to my beautiful friend here. Her name's Carter. I suppose she's the reason you and I wouldn't have worked, Sherlock. She'd surely take my attention away from you whenever she was near."

Sherlock's eyes narrowed upon her form, clearly entertaining the possibility that she had betrayed him as John looked upon her with confusion and, eventually, his face became tainted with anger.

"Don't be shy, sweetheart." James cooed, a hand at her back as he pushed her into his side. "Say 'Hello'."

"Hello Mr Holmes, Doctor Watson." She nodded in their direction as she greeted them. "Pleasant evening?" She asked. Her voice was quiet, her face relatively blank. She was dressed impeccably and looked like an angel.

"I think you've rendered them speechless." She remained stoic as James pressed a kiss to her cheek. "She is absolutely beautiful, wouldn't you agree?"

Sherlock sneered at James as John began speaking, his head shaking in disbelief. No, no way. Carter wouldn't do this.

"Carter? You?! You betrayed us?! You've known him all this time?" He seemed to have come upon a realisation as he spoke. "You killed West; you killed him and gave Moriarty the Missile Documents. It's where you disappeared to today, wasn't it?" He looked her, desperate for her to deny his accusations.

Her mask faltered for but a second, a second which Sherlock would have noticed had he not been intent on aiming his gun at the vest on the floor.

John looked to Sherlock.

"Leave John; I'll finish up here."

"No. No Sherlock. I'm not going to leave you here. Carter, you're not really with him are you? Please tell me it's not true? Answer me dammit!" John said.

"You're going to kill us all then Sherlock?" James asked, curious as to what the Detective would do, ignoring the irate Englishman to his right.

Sherlock was about to reply when the sounds of 'Stayin' Alive' drifted around the pool. James closed his eyes in what looked to be exasperation and annoyance before plucking the mobile from his jacket.

"Do you mind if I take this?" He asked Sherlock, who waved him off with a 'Go ahead. You've got all the time in the world'.

"Hello? Yes this is. Who else would it be?" He mouthed 'sorry' and turned around. "What did you say?! If I find out your lying to me I will skin you and turn you into shoes." He hissed into the phone. "No! Were you listening to me at all you incompetent fool? Okay then, if what you're saying _is_ true then I can make you rich beyond your wildest dreams." He cancelled the call. "Sorry about that, though I must say this is a very lucky day for you indeed."

He grinned, the maliciousness behind that smile chilled even Sherlock to the bone.

"And why would you say that?"

"I lied." He said, scratching the back of his head and looking like a child that got caught doing something that he shouldn't have been. "Carter is not my friend; just a mere acquaintance, if even that. She's an awful conversationalist though. Wouldn't speak a word about you, no matter how hard I tried to get her to." He had Carter again, an arm around her waist as he brushed her cheek with the back of his knuckles, caressing her face with a feather-light touch. "I do so want to keep her. Would you let me? I promise to take care of her; I'll feed her, walk her, bathe her." He said with a smirk. "I think it's time for us to leave, sweetheart."

"No." Sherlock said. He'd have liked to have thought that he didn't doubt her, not one ounce, but people did change. He didn't, but everyone else, well, it was human nature.

"Come on now Sherlock. You didn't seem all that keen to take her before. Doctor Watson, have you, too, changed your mind? Seems as if I'm not the only one partial to whimsical decisions, am I? What do you think _mon chérie_?"

"I think it's time you allow me to return home, Mr Moriarty."

"So polite, you are." He said, amusement clear in his eyes as he turned her to face him and leant forward, pressing a chaste kiss the corner of her lips. He pulled back and tapped her nose; she remained still. "I suppose we should call it a night. I've kept you for long enough now. I had a wonderful time. I'll call you." He said, walking off and sending a wink and flirty wave to Carter.

Sherlock reached out and pulled Carter to them; John embraced the woman, pressing her into him, taking comfort in knowing that Carter hadn't done anything he accused her of and knowing she was safe.

"Carter?" He whispered. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I believed him." He said. He felt her nod her head against his chest and took it as a sign of forgiveness. He looked back up, watching as James walked away, following the man's every movement as Sherlock did the same.

"Sherlock, this has been one of the best nights of my life. It was a pleasure to meet you and I'm sure we'll see each other again. It was nice to make your acquaintance, Doctor Watson." He was almost out of view now. "Carter. We'll pick up where we left off. I'm rather insatiable and," he closed his eyes, looking as if he were reminiscing, "you do taste absolutely divine. Ta ta my friends."

It took a few moments before any of them moved, expecting James to come traipsing in once again.

"What did he do to you?"

John had the urge to hit his head into the many lockers that stood in front of the walls.

"Sherlock!" He hissed, sending the man a look. "Are you alright Carter?" He asked gently.

She took a step back, out of the Doctor's embrace and nodded.

"Yeah, I'm fine. These past few days have been nothing short of a nightmare. Mycroft picked me up, requested my help to get the West Murder Case finished and I said 'yes'. I tracked down a couple of addresses and went to investigate. Next thing I knew, I was being herded into a car, not unlike Mycroft's standard vehicle. I don't know how long we drove around but that man has got the most bizarre mood swings, even more so than you Sherlock." The trio had made their way back to the main road by this time. "What happened with you two?"

"I got picked up on my way to Sarah's." John said. Once his words sunk in he panicked. "Sarah!"

"Do be quiet John. She'll forgive you….maybe." Sherlock said. "Moriarty extended to me an invitation. I couldn't have possibly refused." He answered Carter. He then grabbed her arm, gently of course, and placed her in front of him. He looked at her closely before removing a handkerchief from his coat pocket, wiping at her face.

John watched, curious as to what the Detective was doing.

"She doesn't need it." Sherlock said in reply to John's silent question.

"Doesn't need what?"

"The make-up John."

Carter blushed as Sherlock cleaned her face, freeing it from the cosmetics.

"Thanks Sherlock." She whispered. "I'm feeling drained; are we going home now?"

"Yes. John, we're leaving."

''

"Go straight to my room and sleep. No arguments; not tonight." Sherlock told Carter. She nodded her head. "My brother's in your apartment waiting for you."

"You're going to tell him to sod off or something?"

"Or something. We'll speak properly in the morning."

"Goodnight Sherlock. Goodnight John. Sweet dreams to both of you." She hugged them both, lingering a little when her arms went around Sherlock, and retreated up the stairs, falling asleep almost as soon as her head touched the pillow.

"Are you coming in as well?" Sherlock gestured to the door and, judging by the anger clearly present on his roommate's face, he'd need not bother to ask.

"Carter, you've kept me waiting all night. I must ask why, my dear and is it really necessary to bring in those two?" Mycroft asked before looking up to greet them as the light turned on. He raised an eyebrow. "Where's Carter?"

"Safe now, no thanks to you!" John answered.

"She is otherwise unavailable right now, brother. Why make her take the case?"

"I didn't _make_ her do anything, Sherlock. My powers only extend so far; I'm not super human." Sherlock scowled and Mycroft sighed as John frowned at the man. "She is a very efficient individual. Her abilities are useful, no matter the case, and I know she will get the job done. Of course, that is why I am here now. She was to contact me during the early evening. Where is she?"

"Here is your USB stick, Mycroft. The unending coding has ensured that not one person looked at these after Mr West died, asides from Carter. You've got what you wanted, now leave."

Mycroft stood, umbrella present as it always was, with a look of distaste in his face.

"I suppose I will have to come back."

"You needn't bother really."

''

"What's the matter now?" Sherlock asked.

"I feel awful. For a moment back there…I didn't know what to think when Carter came out. I…for a second there I believed Moriarty."

"It's only natural to have doubted her. You've known her for all of five months."

"Did you?"

Sherlock turned away, opting to ignore John's question. She'd understand, he thought. That's just who she is. She wouldn't judge him, or John, for questioning her loyalties.

''

"Are we going to tell Lestrade any of this?" John asked. "Inform him of a criminal mastermind that's running around leaving puzzles and killing people?"

"Mycroft has that covered. I'm certain he's already told Lestrade that we encountered a psychopathic genius."

Carter walked over, two cups in her hand which she sat down on the coffee table.

"Move over will you?" Sherlock rolled his eyes and lifted up his legs. "You're going to make me your footstool?"

"I've no objections to you becoming my pillow either." It was Carter's turn to roll her eyes.

"What…..Carter what happened yesterday?" John asked.

"Exactly what I said. He had us driven around, attempted small talk, tried to get information out of me; the usual."

Sherlock swung his legs to the side of the couch and sat up.

"What aren't you telling us?"

"We have a problem that I'm sure I can fix."

"What do you mean 'problem'?" He said, eyeing her critically.

"The driver, his name; I knew I'd heard it before but I just couldn't place it and when I saw him…Moriarty has a wicked right-hand man at his side: loyal to a fault, intelligent enough and just as dangerous as Moriarty himself." She paused. "Sebastian Moran: Born in London, Swedish decent, distinguishable features, greatest sniper in all of the world with many other useful skills at his disposal; a threat."

"How did you find all that-"

"Moriarty was boasting about the man's accomplishments; that, and I may or may not have come across him once before. He's a man of honour for the most part but he will do anything for Moriarty."

Sherlock remained silent and was in his own little world at the moment, probably filing away the information in his Mind Palace and seeing if he had any other information on the man.

"You mean you were literally driven around London for hours on end? You weren't hurt?"

"They bought me dinner; paid for the food and everything. Not one complaint when I ordered one of everything off of the menu just to be a bit of git."

"You accepted food from them?!"

"John, the likelihood of them prearranging food and paying off restaurant staff was highly unlikely."

"Where did they take you?" Sherlock suddenly chimed in.

"This little place about, let's see, uh," she sat there, eyes closed and started to tap her foot in a rhythmic pattern, "four and half hours away."

"Who killed Andrew West?"

"Okay, Sherlock, can we keep the questioning in some form of order please?"

"Who killed him?"

"A work colleague. It was-"

"Accidental. Good. My brother would like a word with you."

"Do I have to deal with Mycroft this early in the morning?"

"Unfortunately."

"What will you two be doing then? Have you got work today John?"

"Yes, actually; I start in a half hour."

"You don't sound all too happy about that."

John placed his cuppa down and, upon finding his phone, he threw it towards Carter. Sarah had broken up with him when he failed to show up for their date.

"Oh John, get up and let me give you a hug."

"Is that really necessary? I had my skull taken from me by Mrs Hudson and all I received was laughter." Sherlock said, though you could have almost called it whinging.

"Yes it is. This man has too big of a heart. Forget about her, John. She was nothing but a fake-blonde bimbo anyway."

John chuckled at that, returning the hug before Sherlock stood up, arms outstretched.

"Really Sherlock?" He didn't reply verbally, just looked at her completely serious. "Okay then. Come here you big sulk."

"How sweet!" Mrs Hudson exclaimed. "It's so nice to see a young couple in love. You don't get to see such innocent acts anymore. The youth of today are so uncouth." She said as she made her way into the apartment.

"Ah, Mrs Hudson, did you buy the tea?" Sherlock asked, stepping away from Carter and approaching the landlady.

"Yes Sherlock, but that's the last time I do. I'm your landlady, not your housekeeper."

All three occupants of 221 Baker Street smiled to each other as Mrs Hudson said her famous line.

"Now I'll do a little bit of dusting in here; you boys need to start looking after yourselves."

"No need to Mrs Hudson, that's what Carter is for."

"Sherlock Holmes, you don't say such things about her. Carter dear, don't take it too personally, you know how this one is."

"All too well Mrs Hudson, all too well." Carter said. "Oh, by the way, I'm making a stew tonight. Mrs Hudson, you're welcome to have some."

"Oh thank you dear. That would be wonderful."

''

* * *

 **Authors Note:** I can finally start writing from where I wanted the fanfiction to begin from. As usual, I thought it best to introduce her earlier, just to establish her as a character and to have her meet John. There will, eventually, be a chapter dedicated to the life of Carter. Yes, you'll learn of her adventures pre-Sherlock and during the five years they were working together. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading this ~


	4. Chapter 4

The Language of Life: A Sherlock Fanfiction

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own the BBC's 'Sherlock'. If I did, I'd've given Mycroft someone to love. That man may be the British Government but he still needs some love! Oh and a little warning, this is going to be a long chapter.

* * *

"Why couldn't you just come here? I look like a bloody lunatic walking around with a laptop that has your face on it."

"Oh do shut up John. This case is a three."

"A three?! The man up and died in the middle of nowhere and you've told me it wasn't the driver, who was the only other person out here."

"Precisely. Now go back to the water's edge."

"Bloody git. Why didn't you send Carter with me at the very least?"

"She needs her sleep. If you wanted her to join you, you should have woken her up. Mind you, I find it best to let sleeping bears lie."

"I'm telling her that you called her a bear." John said, knowing full well that he was acting childish but he was walking around with a computer. The looks from the officer's was enough to put the ex-army medic in a foul mood. Not to mention the fact that he was woken up at three in the morning by Sherlock.

"Well, this case is sol…What are you doing in here? Get out. I didn't invite you."

John looked to the computer as he heard Sherlock and another man conversing.

"We're here to take you to your brother. Get up and get ready." Said a masculine voice. John rolled his eyes. Bloody Mycroft and his bodyguards.

"I'm finishing up a case. Tell him he can wait."

"He requests your presence immediately."

"Don't touch that!" John watched as Sherlock reached for the laptop but he was too slow.

"Sir!"

John turned around, closing the laptop as he felt a headache coming on.

"It's for you."

John held out his hand, expecting the man to hand over a mobile phone.

"No Sir; the helicopter."

"Helicop-" He shielded his eyes and spotted the flying machine. "Right."

''

"Put some clothes on Sherlock."

"No. You insisted you see me immediately and I'm rather comfortable here in my bed sheet."

John held a hand to his mouth, trying to subdue the laughter that was threatening to bubble up.

" _Have you got anything on under there?" John asked, seeing Sherlock wrapped in his sheets, sitting on a lounge in Buckingham Palace._

" _No."_

" _Okay. What are we doing in Buckingham Palace?"_

 _At that moment, Mycroft walked through the open double doors and entered the room._

" _Seeing the Queen, apparently."_

 _The two men shared a laugh as Mycroft sneered at them, having caught the 'Queen' comment before introducing them to a man named Henry._

"What's so amusing Doctor Watson?"

"Nothing; nothing at all. Sorry." He cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure.

The attention of all four men was quickly diverted towards the sounds of footsteps approaching from the main hall.

Carter, being kindly escorted by a burly man, stood before them in nothing but her undergarments and a flimsy, knee-length singlet-top. As if that wasn't odd enough, she sported a smug smirk and had blood on her forehead.

"Morning boys. Oh, Mycroft, darling, you'll be needing a new person on 'Carter Watch'. You're other Agent has been otherwise incapacitated. A rather unfortunate accident befell him on the way out of my apartment." She sent him a devious grin, eyes sparkling. "What did I do?" She asked, then proceded to answer her own question. "Nothing much, honestly, but the next time one of your people puts their hands on me, I'm going to kill them, okay? This one here tried to rope in that arsehole but it seems he had a bit of hearing problem."

A strangled laugh escaped the mouth of Doctor John Watson. He was thoroughly amused at the moment. His morning had started off awfully but now…at least he hadn't been 'incapacitated' by Carter. She was a fierce fighter, that one.

Carter made her way over to the boys and went to sit in the middle of them when Sherlock simply grabbed her arm and pulled her to him. He set her down on the edge of his legs and wrapped her up in one half of his bed sheet. She let out an indignant squeak.

John raised an eyebrow but had gotten used to Sherlock's possessiveness when it came to the Linguist. There was, apparently, nothing going on between them but despite his constant denial, Sherlock had grown much too fond of the woman.

"Sherlock!" Mycroft all but shouted at his brother.

"Yes, Mycroft? Is there a problem?"

"A problem? You're being entirely inappropriate. Carter: get up."

"No. She's perfectly fine right here." Sherlock said, smiling at his brother.

"Thank you, Sherlock, for sharing your bed sheet with me." Carter said, dramatically batting her eyelashes, her words coming out in a sugary tone.

"Well, it's not like it's the first time or anything." His smile was now a smug smirk, not unlike the one Carter had walked in with.

Mycroft was getting steadily angry and it seemed he had enough.

"You will both leave the room and get some clothes on, now!"

"I'd just like to point out that I would have been dressed had it not been for _your_ employee barging into my bathroom while I was showering."

"Now Mycroft, isn't that entirely inappropriate behaviour?" Sherlock asked, a look of mock disappointment on his face.

"Why are we here?" John asked, hoping to redirect their attention before an infamous Holmes Argument began.

"My client has requested your services, Mr Holmes." Henry answered.

"I don't work for anonymous clientele."

"You may be interested in this case, Sherlock. It's a power play." Mycroft informed them.

"Really?" He asked, the word nothing but a bored drawl.

"Irene Adler, a dominatrix, has some photographs of herself with my client; photographs that would no doubt ruin my client's life if they were to become public."

"Not Adler." Carter sighed.

"What do you know?" Mycroft asked, eyes narrowing.

"I know who the client is." Henry's polite smile disappeared completely as Carter turned to address him. "I know exactly how much of a problem those photos will cause; there must be something she wants. The question is: why hasn't she just told you what her terms are?"

"You're bluffing." Henry said.

"If you'd like me to say _her_ name out loud I will." Henry decided to be quiet as he turned an alarming shade of red.

"Rest assured Henry, Carter will not breathe a word about your clients name. Isn't that right, Carter?"

"My lips are sealed."

"You'll find Ms Adler at her home in Belgravia. You may take my car."

Sherlock stood, Carter obviously had to and John followed along.

"Well I suppose we've no option. Let's get this over with."

As the trio went to leave, Mycroft placed a foot on the bed sheet as it trailed along floor. Carter almost jumped when she was held fast by Sherlock, hands at her hips, keeping her in front of him.

"John, would you mind picking up my sheet?"

"You're sheetless?" Carter asked, voice in an unusually high octave as John scrambled about, handing Sherlock his sheet.

"Thank you."

"I am sick and tired of you acting like a child Sherlock. Go and put some clothes on now!"

"Could I maybe get something too? It's getting a little chilly." Carter asked. "On second thoughts, no; I'll go home and change. Wouldn't want to risk being given some of your clients, uh-hum, clothes."

''

"Well I can't say this is what I expected when I walked in." Carter said.

"And who are you?" Irene asked, standing up and walking around the woman. "Is this the reason why you're not attracted to me Mr Holmes? She is very striking. What's your name?"

"Carter." John piped up, looking completely flustered as Irene stalked about the room naked. "Her name's Carter. I'm John, John Watson, in case you wanted to know."

Carter pulled off her coat and offered the item to Irene, who took it.

"I'm afraid my friend doesn't know quite where to look." Sherlock explained.

"On the contrary I think he knows exactly where to look. This is a comfortable coat Carter. Where did you get it?"

"Let's not lose focus on the more important things in life, Ms Adler. I interrupted your conversation with Sherlock. Please, continue."

Irene raised an eyebrow at her and Sherlock began speaking.

"What is it that you want?"

"I've told you before: nothing. You're not getting my phone let alone the pictures Mr Holmes."

Irene attempted to flirt with Sherlock as they conversed: Sherlock attempting to extract as much information as he possibly could as Carter stood by the window. Soon enough though, the sounds of an alarm rang throughout the house. Carter looked to Irene, as did Sherlock who then made his way over to a portrait that was hanging above a mantel piece.

"When there's a fire, a mother will immediately look to her children as they are the most precious thing to them; you looked immediately at this picture." He pressed a button on the underside of the mantel, revealing a safe. "I hope there's not a child in there. You can shut it off now John." He called out.

"I'll go help him. The noise is getting irritating. Why couldn't the alarm be a song? 'Oh, I'm on fire.'" She sang as she exited the room.

"A little help would be appreciated." John muttered, running about like a madman.

Carter moved a table, positioning it under one of the alarms, and climbed atop trying her best to reach it. She looked down at John who looked back up at her.

"I'm expecting you to catch me if I fall, I hope you know that John." She jumped up, missing the button before she realigned herself and tried again. "Success!"

Both her and John were a little more than surprised when another alarm sounded, but not as much as they were when a group of men came storming through, grabbing them up as they went along.

"Where is Adler?" A blonde man asked, pressing a gun into the side of Carter's head.

"Who?"

"Bring 'em."

"We'll be right, mate." She said to him. "Don't worry."

John's eye twitched. Don't worry? Don't worry?! He knew Carter to be a bit odd at times but he couldn't understand why she looked bored by this turn of events and since when did she use the word 'mate'?

"Okay, on the floor Ms Adler." He commanded as they all entered the room.

"Sorry." John said, offering the Detective his apologies.

"So, Bernie, how's the wife?"

"Don't test my patience this time Carter." John should have known. The way that man glared at her when they walked in should have alerted him to the fact that Carter knew this man and had obviously pissed him off in some way. "I'll deal with you another day. Right now though, I would like you," he said, indicating to Sherlock by nodding his head at him, "to open up the safe."

"I don't know the code."

"You're reputation precedes you, Sherlock Holmes though I think you're smart enough to break into a safe."

"I'm flattered, I assure you, but that will not help the situation. I don't know the code."

"Okay. Kill the man and I'll kill Carter. On the count of three. One," he knocked Carter to her knees, "Two," he cocked the gun and readied to fire. Before he could utter the word 'three' Sherlock had shouted out 'wait!'.

A second later he had typed in what he believed to be the code and, hearing a rather odd sound as it opened, said 'Vatican Cameos' before ducking to the floor, Carter and John jumping to the sides as Irene flattened herself onto the ground.

"Quickly now." He said, running out of the room, clutching onto Carter's arm and dragging her along with him.

"Where the hell are we going?"

"Away from here. I thought that would be obvious John."

"Then why the bleeding Hell are we going _up_ the stairs?"

"We're jumping out the window."

"Good joke Sherlock; you're getting funnier with each passing near-death experience." Carter said.

"I wasn't joking Carter."

They got to the landing when Sherlock released Carter's arm and promptly lost his balance. He tilted his head and tried to stand up straight, only to fall to the ground in confusion. What the hell was happening?

"Oh God no; you drank the tea didn't you? What have I told you lot about accepting food from strangers?! John, what about you?"

"I didn't drink or eat anything."

"Good. Someone with common sense. Help me with him would you? He's going to be a little out of it for a good six hours at the very least."

"She drugged him?"

"Of course she drugged him." Carter stood at a window and peered out. "This is about as good a place as any. You go first, I'll lower him to you, I'll jump out and then we wait for Lestrade. Why on Earth would he the tea?" She asked herself.

"Wait for Lestrade?" John said confused. He then promptly dropped to the floor when he heard gun shots. "What the bloody Hell Carter?!" The Linguist had pulled a gun from God knows where and proceded to unload it into the air.

"Easiest way to get the police here. They're probably on their way already though; that will just make sure they arrive faster."

The two eventually managed to get out of the house and waited around the back until they heard sirens.

"I'll fetch Lestrade." Carter said.

''

"He's coming 'round." John said.

"He's going to kill me."

"No he won't Carter. Calm down."

"Calm down?! I dropped the bloody phone! Dropped it, John."

"Dropped?" She heard Sherlock question, his speech slurred as he attempted to stand up.

"Lay back down Sherlock." John ordered. "You're in no shape to go running about after a phone."

"Phone? What?" Sherlock Holmes was well and truly under the effects of the drug still.

"I'm going to get that infernal device. Give me a week and I'll have it back here. Tell Sherlock I was called away on a last minute business thing or something."

"You can't go alone! That woman has hit-men after her; hit-men that know who you are and apparently have a score to settle with you."

"I'll be fine John. I'll call in a favour from someone and have them retrieve it. I'll just plan it all out with them and make sure nothing goes awry."

It was a fun time explaining to Sherlock that Carter had to go elsewhere for business purposes. He knew Sherlock didn't believe a word he was saying as well. This would be a long, long week. He could already feel the migraine that he would undoubtedly suffer. Carter owed him big time.

''

"You want me to steal a phone from The Woman?"

"Yes."

"Why?" The man asked her.

"Adams, I saved your arse how many times?"

"Only because you love my arse." He replied cheekily. "Okay, okay then. I'll do it. Do you have a plan?"

"Do I have a…who do you think I am, Adams?"

"Sorry." He said, hands up in a placating gesture. "Now who else have you roped into this little," he started moving his hands, trying to find the right word, "we'll just say 'game', of yours?"

Another voice echoed down the hall and Andrew 'Archie' Adams did not look pleased.

"It's been a while Archie; how have you been?"

"You've got to be kidding me." He said to Carter.

"I thought a little reunion would be fun." She said.

''

"Here you go Sherlock." Carter said, offering the phone to him. He glared at her though, before he plucked the device from her hands and threw himself onto his sofa. "Okay. What's up with him?"

"He's been in a right foul mood all week but this morning really takes the cake. I've no idea but he's become more than insufferable. You owe me Carter."

Sherlock sat down and fiddled around with the phone, glaring all the while. Now, Sherlock was angry, at Carter, but not for the reason she was assuming. He knew she'd dropped the phone trying to avoid Irene and the American hit-men back at Belgravia but she had brought it back. He was angry because of the fact that she had a visitor last night who snuck out of the building at five in the morning. He knew John had been lying when he said she was going on a business trip, knew she was going to retrieve the phone but really, how could that have taken over a week and why was she with a man?

"John, we need to go to St. Bart's."

"I've got an interview in an hour, Sherlock, on the other side of London. Take Carter with you."

"Fine." He grabbed his coat and exited the apartment. "Carter!" He called up from the bottom of the stairs.

"I'll try to find out what's got him so pissed off. Good luck John, though you won't need it." She told the man, hugging him before squaring up and heading out the door.

"You'll need some Carter. See you."

She entered the taxi, sitting to the right side. She turned to face Sherlock.

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing."

"Sherlock, don't give me that bull. What the bloody hell is this about? I'm sorry I dropped the phone okay? I did bring it back though. I should have been aware of what I was doing and I nearly lost the one piece of evidence we need."

"The man." He spat.

"Man? What man?"

"The man who left your apartment at five a.m. this morning."

Recognition flashed across her face as she realised what this was about.

"That was Andrew Adams. I enlisted the help of both him and another colleague. They owe me a small handful of life-debts. I cashed one in so I didn't have to confront Adler. He crashed at my apartment. He did a fine job but got a little roughed up so I let him take my couch."

Sherlock's piercing gaze never wavered as he searched for any signs of deceit. He nodded, satisfied and feeling foolish. When the cab stopped, Sherlock got out and went around, holding open Carter's door and helping her out.

"It's alright Sherlock. So you were a little jealous; so what?"

"I was not jealous. I've never been jealous. That was not jealousy. I merely had wondered if you were stupid enough to have let a stranger into your home as you slept."

"Okay, whatever you say Locky-boy."

"What have I told you about calling me that?"

"'Never call me that horrid name again, Carter, or else.'" Carter said, quoting the Detective word for word.

"Good; you remembered." Just like that the Detective was functioning as he usually did: he was back to his egotistical, self-proclaiming sociopathic self. Carter shook her head as she followed after him. John would have a field day when she told him what the man's problem was.

"Hello Sherlock. How are you today?" Molly asked the moment she spotted the man in the distinguishable coat.

"No time to chat Molly. Carter and I have some business to attend to."

"Oh….okay then. I'll just...If you need anything, I'll be down the h-"

"Yes, Molly. That's nice of you." He said dismissively.

"Hello Molly. I hope you are well." Molly ignored Carter and scuttled off. "She really doesn't like me. What a twat. I'd reprimand your rude behaviour but that woman deserves a little hit of reality. If she's not too careful…"

Sherlock watched her, amused at the all too familiar tones of a threat.

"Coffee please; we'll be here for a while. I need to examine every element of this phone that I can without ruining the data."

"No problem at all."

Carter exited the lab room, making her way to the cafeteria. On her way there, Molly started to walk towards her.

"Excuse me Carter?"

"Yes Molly?"

"You stay away from Sherlock." Raising an eyebrow, Carter waited for her to continue. "I-I've known that man for many years and let me tell you: he is not interested in you at all. You're no good for him. He deserves someone who's known him, someone who he can rely on; someone who's always there."

"Okay."

"Okay?" Molly was completely taken aback at this answer. "Okay." She said more firmly. "Good."

"Okay. Is that all then Molly?"

"Yes. Um, yes." She quickly retreated down the hall.

Upon entering the lab, two cups of hot beverages in hand, she almost laughed seeing Molly.

"Here you go Detective."

"Thank you Carter."

"Bye Sherock! I'll see you again soon?"

Sherlock ignored her and turned to Carter.

"I can't open the phone up or it will incinerate the chip." He moved aside, pulling Carter to the microscope and watched her from over her shoulder. "Do you see it?" His mouth was at her ear, brushing the skin.

"Yes but what does this have to with the case?"

"Nothing at all, however, I do believe I've solved the Molly problem."

Carter's eyes went to the door and she tilted her head back to glare up at the Detective.

"You bloody git! Now you've burdened _me_ with her! Do you know what she said to me on my way to get your coffee?"

"No. I may be a genius but even I cannot tell you what was said. Enlighten me."

"She told me to stay away from you. Apparently _I'm_ putting the moves on _you_. She had the gall to inform me that I wasn't good enough for you."

"You've allowed yourself to get worked up about it. You shouldn't listen to the words of a woman scorned, Carter."

She elbowed him in the stomach and he let out an 'oomph'.

"Git. Now where the hell is the phone and what else do you have?"

Sherlock stepped back, taking off the white lab coat and replacing it with his grey one.

"There really is nothing I can do until I figure out the password. There are four blank spaces and, factoring in that it can be letters, numbers or a combination of both, we've got our work cut out for us. I've only four attempts."

"Well ain't that a bugger."

"It is, isn't it?" He said in agreement.

''

"God, they better not be annoying Lestrade today." Carter grumbled as she made her way up Baker Street, five bags of shopping in her hands. "I'll hit them if they have. Poor man; deserves at least one day without the presence of Sherlock."

"Oh dear, let me help you with those!"

"It's alright Mrs Hudson, I've got them. I brought you some teacake." She placed the bags in the small, narrow hall and dug out the cake.

"Oh aren't you a dear. Join me for some after you put those away."

"I won't be too long."

She put away her food stuffs and made her way to Mrs Hudson's.

"So how have you been dear?"

"Very well thank you Mrs Hudson. I've had a busy week though."

"Yes, yes John told me you were away. Sherlock was missing you something shocking. Drove us up the wall, he did. Ah, but I suppose it was to be expected. What were you doing?"

"Retrieving an item that I lost."

"That awful phone?"

"Sherlock tell you, did he?"

"There's not much you three can hide from me Carter." The younger woman smiled and laughed.

"How have you been Mrs Hudson?"

"I've been alright dear. My hip has been playing up a little bit."

"Have you been to the doctor's yet, a specialist?"

"Oh no dear. There's nothing they can really do for me. I think I'll just stick to my, uh, herbal soothers."

"Here, let me get that." Carter walked over to the stove, taking the kettle off of the hot plate before moving over to the sink and looking out the window. "Mrs Hudson?"

"Yes?"

"Were you expecting any company?"

"No. Why?"

"Here, take this." She placed the phone into Mrs Hudson's hands. "Go out the back door and wait in the shop. No matter what, Mrs Hudson, do not enter the apartment until Sherlock or John return okay?"

"What's going on?"

"Please Mrs Hudson? I'll tell you later but right now, I need you out of here and somewhere safe." The doors of the black car had closed. "Quickly. Go."

Mrs Hudson nodded, getting up and slipping out the back door just as the front door was kicked in. The group of men walked into 221 Baker Street, guns drawn. When they entered Mrs Hudson's apartment they found Carter sitting at the table, cup and saucers at the ready and holding a small, dainty cup of tea in her own hands.

"I am oh so happy that you've arrived gentlemen. Would you like some cake?"

"Where is it Carter?"

"Where is what, Bernie?"

The blonde man motioned to two of his men. They approached Carter, hands at the ready to grab the woman.

"Sorry, Bernard, but I'm not going to let you lot hassle me." With that said, she picked up the kettle, knocking it into one of the men's head before emptying its contents into the eyes of the other. She barged through both, bringing back her arm, feigning a punch while kicking Bernard in the nether regions.

"You little bitch!"

"Oh my God, did I hurt you? Good!"

After a good lot of fighting the men eventually subdued Carter and hauled her up the flight of stairs. They threw her into 221B and then the interrogation began.

''

Bernard stood back, rolling his shoulders and wiping off his knuckles.

"Well I guess you won't be saying anything for a while now. Take her for a ride, boys."

Carter snarled at them, attempting to bite them as they reached for her once again.

"Still got some fight in you Carter? You are one persistent woman, I'll give you that. This is, though, the end for you. I'll admit, it has been fun; you made things interesting." He grimaced when she spat on him. Wiping his face with his shirt sleeve, he smiled. "I expected nothing less. Goodbye Carter. Just finish her off and dump her in an alley or something." He told two of the men.

Carrying her down to the car, they then threw her in the trunk, binding her hands and feet.

"Don't bother with that." One said, noticing the other preparing a gag. "There's no point."

Carter closed her eyes and decided on a plan. She'd need one this time; winging it just wouldn't cut it. Bernard had done a mighty fine job incapacitating her and with her current injuries, taking on the two men in the car was not the best option. She'd be relying on Mycroft and his various watchdogs for this one.

''

Upon arriving at their apartment, Sherlock immediately noticed the new angle that the door was sitting on its hinges.

"The door was kicked in; people have been here. John, get ready." As the two men prepared to go into the apartments, an extraordinarily worried Mrs Hudson ran from the little shop, straight to them.

"Sherlock! I thought I heard your voice. They took her! She told me to sneak out the back; said not to come back until I spotted either of you two. I didn't know what to do."

"Mrs Hudson, where did they take her?"

"I don't know. I think there's still one of the men here though. They hurt her."

John and Sherlock both sported frowns. The former held his gun at the ready as Sherlock led them into the building, to the door of 221B.

"Hello Mr Holmes. You've kept me waiting for some time now."

"John, would you mind terribly if you went downstairs and made a tea for Mrs Hudson?"

"Sherlock, don't you think it would be bet-"

"Now, John."

John lowered his gun and did as Sherlock requested.

"Where is Carter?"

"Where is the phone?" Bernard countered.

"What did you do to her?"

"I want that phone, Mr Holmes."

Sherlock walked further into the apartment and began pacing around.

Damage to the thin layer of paint in the hall: a result of someone attempting to dig their heels into the wall to try and halt movement. Blood, sporadic drops leading up to the apartment and within it: a cut to the head or face, most likely the lip. The 'Client' chair, along with John's and the coffee table, had been moved; now pushed up against Sherlock's sofa. More blood, significantly more than the hall, a broken….his vase!

Sherlock's head shot up, looking at Bernard with nothing less than contempt.

The blonde stood, watching the Detective as the man looked about the room.

"Anything the matter Mr Holmes?"

"Your hand."

"My hand?" Bernard flexed his right hand, clenching it.

"Starting to bruise, slight swelling and broken skin on the knuckles: you've been hitting something, rather, someone. The apartment is mostly in the condition that I had left it in, asides from the moved furniture. I hope you didn't drag it across the floor, I'd hate to find any scuff marks; can't do much to fix that kind of damage. You want the phone but you aren't going to find it here. You have a previous, _acquaintanceship_ , with Miss Carter. She bested you, ruined you; you lost quite a lot thanks to dearest Carter; your wife, your job. What else did you lose?"

Bernard was glaring at Sherlock.

"What else did I lose? Wasn't any of that enough?" He practically snarled. He stalked towards Sherlock, stood right in front of the tall Detective; one of his smaller mistakes.

Sherlock almost rolled his eyes as the man before him took the bait, becoming incensed. The blonde's head snapped back as Sherlock's forehead collided with his nose. With a solid punch to the stomach, a kick to the back of the knees and a knee to the face, Bernard was on the floor and it would be a little while before he got back up.

''

"What the bleeding hell happened Sherlock?"

"I'm not entirely sure Detective. You see this blanket? I'm still in shock…Fine then: He fell from the roof. He was trying to escape, you see. I pursued him but upon reaching the edge he lost his footing, slipped and then fell. For some odd reason he crawled his way back into the apartment; I was downstairs you see, and when I returned to my apartment I must have frightened him."

"So much that he then jumped out of your window?"

"I know. It's absolutely beyond even my thinking capability. Humans react differently depending upon the individual and the situation."

Greg shook his head.

"Can I go now?"

"No. I'm to babysit you until Carter is found. Don't look at me like that Sherlock."

John came racing over to the two, his phone being placed into his front pocket.

"That was Mycroft; he's on his way. He found the car, followed it and sent some people to go and collect her."

''

"Oh Carter! If you ever do such a thing again I don't know what we'll do! You almost gave me a heart-attack; Sherlock and John too!" Mrs Hudson was playing Mother Hen at the moment and would not leave the young woman alone. "Drink it all dear."

"I'm fine Mrs Hudson, honestly. You should have seen the other guys." She said, attempting to lighten the atmosphere. "Sherlock, John: tell her I'm fine."

"We can't be too careful, Carter. You may not be in much pain but that could be due to shock."

"I'll get you for this John."

"He has a point, Carter. Besides, are you not the one constantly advocating the wonders of Doctor Watson's extensive medical knowledge?"

"You too Sherlock, you too; just you wait."

''

* * *

 **Authors Note:** I absolutely loathed Irene Adler but I did admire her cunning. I've started the next chapter and I cannot wait to continue writing it. This one has been fun. You'll be introduced to Andrew Adams and the mysterious other fellow in later chapters. Anyway, I hope you've enjoyed.


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